


the question

by Jelly



Series: fics fighting fires [3]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen, fics fighting fires, implied janaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: That’s the annoying part about all this, he’s noticed. He’s had people hounding him all night, and for weeks before, asking how he’ll do it, and if he thinks she’ll say yes, when it’s so much less complicated than all of that.He just wants to be with her.[Or the only Yes that actually matters in five parts. Written for @bouncyfutures for fics fighting fires].
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: fics fighting fires [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601734
Comments: 21
Kudos: 227





	the question

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bouncyfutures](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bouncyfutures).



Part 1

It’s not really panic - although, if Callum’s being honest with himself, then yeah, it’s a _little_ panic - but it’s not _really_ panic because he knows in his heart of hearts that Rayla’s most likely going to say _yes_ . He’s not stupid enough to just _assume_ she might want to marry him without having an open discussion about it, and the politics involved are pretty complicated, _especially_ because he is, after all, the Prince of Katolis, and the heir presumptive to the Katolan throne. It’s not fair to Rayla to drag her into all that without actually talking about what _she_ sees for their future, so in actuality, they’ve had this discussion a bunch of times, but it always comes down to this:

He loves her. She loves him. And nothing else matters as long as they’re _together_. 

It shouldn’t have to be any more complicated than that.

So yeah. There’s a confidence there that Callum can’t really explain - he trusts her, and he knows her, and he _thinks_ the likelihood that she’ll say yes is pretty high, so from a technical standpoint, this _isn’t_ panic - 

But he’s nervous about it all the same.

It takes him a day to fly back to the Storm Spire. The cuff box sits on his mind the whole time, an ever present _almost_ -reality that’s thrilling and terrifying and comforting all at once. Twice, he considers landing just to look at them - to marvel at Ethari’s craftsmanship and to imagine how they might look, gleaming against Rayla’s horns. He knows a little about Moonshadow wedding traditions. It’s mostly stuff he’d learned from Lain and Tiadrin before he left the Silvergrove, and he knows she won’t actually _wear_ these until he places them on her at the ceremony (the thought of which puts him into an entirely _different_ spiral), but still. It’s a heck of a thought to behold. 

But he flies without stopping, ignorant of the ache starting to build in his shoulders, because it’s been a week - a _whole_ week without seeing her smile and hearing her laugh, and while the _thought_ of Rayla is nice, actually _seeing_ her is _better_ . Not even the cuffs are worth holding up _that_.

He spots her at the entrance to Zubeia’s antechamber, talking quietly to one of the guards out front. Her hair is up in that loose braid she likes to wear nowadays, her armour shines in the glow of the setting sun, her lips pull upwards when she spots him, and _oh_ , how he’d missed her. Callum grins from behind his scarf, the worn cotton pulled up and over his nose to shield his lips from the bitter wind of flight, and banks. His stomach swoops as he nears and he’s not sure, at this point, if it’s gravity or if it’s because he’s so excited to see her, but it doesn’t matter either way.

He’s with Rayla now. 

He’s home.

She turns to say something to the other guard (who shrugs and rolls her eyes), and then Rayla’s off, hurrying up the rest of the Storm Spire steps in a bid to meet him on the Pinnacle, braid trailing after her in the breeze.

When he touches down, she’s waiting for him and her smile is wide.

“You’re back,” she says.

He chuckles. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

She laughs at that. “If you were smart, you’d have used it to escape.”

Callum snorts at her, his wings shedding in a flurry of feathers. “If that’s _smart_ , then I think I prefer being an idiot.” He grins to match hers, toothy and stupid and full of love, even after all these years. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a week,” giggles Rayla. Her arms come to rest around his waist, her nose pressed lightly against his. “But I suppose I’d be lying if I said _I_ didn’t miss _you_.”

Callum smiles against her and ducks his head to kiss her lips. He’s grown a little bit since they first met. He’s the _slightest_ bit taller now, but they still like to argue good-naturedly about whether or not her horns count in terms of heights. (They _do_ , Rayla insists, and she’ll never let that rest). “How were things here?”

“Not too shabby,” she says. “Zym’s getting a wee bit big to be so boisterous still, but the Guard are keeping up well enough, which is all anyone could have hoped for. He’ll be pleased to know you’re back. How are things with Ez?”

“Pretty good. I think it might be time for a visit from us both.” He pauses, his pack heavy with the cuffs buried within it. “Let’s head inside,” he says. “It’s cold up here. And I think some privacy might be nice.” He winks.

Rayla snorts against his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible,” she chuckles, swatting his arm gently, but her smile is coy and she doesn’t argue beyond that.

x

It’s nice, not having to be anywhere for once. Usually by now, they’d have left for another meeting or negotiation, but for the first time in what feels like a _long_ time, things are settled enough that they can just sort of… _enjoy_ the peace. In the early days, when Rayla was a full-time member of the Guard, and when Callum studied under Ibis’ figurative and literal wing, they stayed here, in the Captain’s quarters. It’s not as fancy as it sounds - just a little room a little further down the Storm Spire with a bed, bathroom, and kitchenette - but it offers more privacy than the other Guards’ quarters, and Zubeia claims they’ve earned it, so it’s where they stay on extended visits. 

The quiet is pleasant, and even more so is the strange domesticity of it. It’s lovely having a space just for the two of them, where they can be _together_ without necessarily doing anything ‘together’, and where the simplicity of the future they _could_ have feels tangible and real. 

Rayla’s never been one to snoop, but he’d buried the box deep within the recesses of his pack anyway, wary of her sharp eyes and the questions that might follow. There’s this moment, where they’re both at the table, tea in their hands, while he’s telling her some joke and she’s rolling her eyes at it, when Callum considers just asking - 

It could be as simple as that, he thinks. He _could_ just ask her over a mug of tea, while they’re both comfortable and unbothered by responsibilities and jobs and expectations but… Callum doesn’t really know. His eyes drift to his pack during the lulls in their conversation, picturing the hand-carved box nestled in its depths, and wondering how he might ask to begin with:

_“Rayla, we’ve been together a while now…”_

_“Rayla, would you do me the honor…”_

_“Rayla, will you marry me?”_

But none of those questions really feel _right_ , and even the ones that kind of _do_ don’t quite make the journey from his mind to his mouth. Then the anxiety returns, and suddenly he’s asking himself if it _is_ what she wants in the first place; if she’s happier where they are now; if she’s as ready to move forward as he is; if -

“What’s the matter?”

Callum pauses. The spiral comes crashing to a halt. Rayla’s looking at him funny, her brows knitted together, her lips pulled downwards in a concerned frown, her tea half way raised and forgotten. He grins awkwardly. “Nothing,” he says. “I was just - uh - thinking, I guess.”

Rayla tilts her head at him, curious. “About what?” 

“About… how far we’ve come.” Not entirely a lie. They _have_ come a long way, which is exactly why Callum thinks it might be time to pop the question. It’s ridiculous to him that it’s been almost five years now. Five years since she’d come to his castle with every intention of killing his brother and father only to leave with him an Ez instead, Zym’s unhatched egg in tow. Five years since she’d risked everything to make a difference, and he’d risked everything to save her life. Five years of peace and prosperity between both their lands; since they’d first presented themselves to Queen Zubeia as an elf and a human in love, and since Ez had presented them to his own people as an example of -

The idea sparks in his mind before he finishes the thought.

Ez, he thinks. The anniversary ball. The cuffs in his pack.

Rayla’s still looking at him funny when he comes to.

“That ball’s at the end of the month,” he says stupidly.

Rayla blinks and sips carefully at her tea. “Oh, yeah,” she says, like she’s just remembered too. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. Then again, I can’t believe it’s been another year since all the crazy stuff happened, so -”

“We’re going, aren’t we?”

She makes a face at him. “Is that a real question?”

Callum hides a snort in his mug. “Yeah, that was dumb. Of course we’re going.” He pauses. “We should bring your mom and dad and Runaan. Ethari always goes anyway, but… it’ll be their first one all together. I think they’ll find it nice after all that time in the coins.”

That makes her smile. It’s been less than a year since they’d pulled them out - Callum’s handiwork, along with Ibis and a couple of other mages using magic from the Earth and Moon arcana - and they’d… had some adjusting to do. Lain and Tiadrin had had an easier time of it. Lain more so than Tiadrin, but in any case, they’d had _significantly_ less trouble adjusting to _Callum_ than Runaan. Runaan’s always been stubborn, Rayla’d said, and Callum’s presence had put him on edge when his last memory before his coining was Callum standing against him in a bid to keep his father and brother from being killed.

They haven’t forgiven each other. Not really. But they’re amicable enough to each other for Rayla’s sake, and that’s probably the best case scenario for now.

“That’s sweet,” says Rayla, but she looks hesitant. “I dunno, though. That’s… a lot of culture shock. I don’t know that they’d be comfortable going to a human ball after all -” she waves her hand vaguely - a quick summary of the mess the war had been - “... you know.”

 _But they should be there,_ Callum thinks, his eyes drifting to his pack once more. _They would want to be there for this._ “I think we should ask,” he says firmly. “They might enjoy it. Besides, the Silvergrove’s on the way. We can all head back together and it’ll hopefully feel less strange to them if they’re coming with us.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. For a second, Callum thinks she might be on to him and his intentions - but she shrugs in the end, her smile fond. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “I think you’re right. It’ll be nice.

x

They wrap up their business with Zubeia within the week. Zym - always happy to see them; always happy to see _Callum_ , especially because Rayla’s been here without him - spends a good amount of time begging for his attention and his cuddles even while Callum and Rayla discuss affairs between elves and humans with his mother. Callum takes it in stride - Zym’s five now and about the size of a horse, but Callum plays games with him and lets him rest his head in his lap anyway, unbothered by the not-so-little dragon’s overt affection.

“Shame you can’t come with us to Katolis,” Callum tells him, scratching under his chin. “Ez’d love to see you - but I think your mom wants you home for a little longer.”

Zym purrs at him, shifting his head enough in Callum’s lap to nose at the pack by his side.

Callum chuckles, glancing surreptitiously at Rayla as she bids her friends on the Guard farewell. “I’d show you but it’s a little risky,” he whispers. “Don’t tell her, okay? It’s supposed to be a surprise. If everything goes well, she’ll be wearing them the next time we see you.”

Zym chirps at him, and Callum doesn’t need to be Ez to know what he’s asking.

_Think she’ll say yes?_

“I hope so, bud,” chuckles Callum. “I hope so.”

  
  
  
  
  


Part 2

  
  


Travel on foot is always slower than flight, but in some ways, Callum prefers it. It reminds him of the old days, when he and Rayla made camp in caves and clearings and the only thing they had to worry about was bringing Zym home in one piece. It’s better now, of course. The peace between their people was hard-fought and he’s grateful for it, but they were only kids back then, and things were… simpler.

It takes them a little over a week to get back to the Silvergrove (they go around the Midnight Desert, rather than through it - Callum makes jokes about their first kisses the whole time, and Rayla lets him, if only because it’s so funny now). He pretty familiar with the ritual to enter now. He likes to think his movements might even be graceful now, and while he knows he doesn’t _actually_ have to do it with her, she likes dancing with him, and that alone is reason enough to do it.

They catch Tiadrin at the bottom of the bough, her arms loaded with bags full of fruit and meat. She grins when she spots them, shifting her hold on the load in her arms before Rayla takes an armful to help her along.

“Back so soon?” she asks, eyebrow raised at Callum.

Callum blanches. Fumbles with the strap of his bag. How could he forget? They don’t know he hasn’t asked her yet. No one else knows about this plan. He makes a face at her from behind Rayla, a hand waving under his chin, his lips pulled into a nervous grimace, hoping the _I haven’t asked yet_ is clear in his actions before Rayla can figure out what her mother means.

“Soon?” asks Rayla, a frown creasing her brow. “If you call three months ‘ _soon_ ’, then I _guess_ -”

“We didn’t expect to see you until the Solstice, is all,” recovers Tiadrin quickly. She shoots Callum a _look_ over her daughter’s shoulder. The _please explain_ is clear in her eyes.

“I suppose,” chuckles Rayla, paying Callum no mind. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. We probably should have sent a letter ahead of us or something. We just thought it might be nice to say hello.”

“It’s always nice to see you, darling,” says Tiadrin fondly. “Letter or no letter.” Her smile is warm as she ushers them both along the path to their home, and warmer still when Callum takes the other bag out of her arms. 

“We actually wanted to ask you something,” says Rayla. “You and Dad and Runaan, if he wants to as well. Ethari has a standing invite which, you should know, goes out to all four of you now that you’re all back. There’s this ball -”

Tiadrin catches Callum’s eye, her mouth opening in an understanding _ah_ when she knows Rayla’s not looking. 

Callum nods at her, a little red, a little sheepish, a little nervous still, but Rayla pays him no mind as she babbles excitedly to her mom. She’s not usually so eager for formal gatherings that involve dress up and pleasantries with other ambassadors, but this one is special, he thinks, and not yet for the reason he hopes will make it special in the years to come. It’s been months since she last saw Ez, and while they spend most of their time on the road nowadays, Katolis is something like a second home to her, and the idea that she might get to share it with _all four_ of her parents is probably something to behold, at least to her. 

Tiadrin listens with a smile, and when they get to the cottage at the edge of the Silvergrove, she unlocks the door and motions for Rayla to enter first. “Your father’s in here somewhere,” she says. “Why don’t you go find him and you can tell us more over some tea?”

Rayla nods happily, a child again in her parents’ home, and once she’s out of earshot, Tiadrin rounds on Callum, a conspiratorial little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So this _ball_ , then…”

Callum purses his lips. “It’s pretty special to both of us,” he mutters. “I didn’t want to just bring it up over dinner or something, I wanted it to be - you know -”

“I get it,” chuckles Tiadrin, taking the bag of vegetables out of his arms. “But you know she won’t care. The fact that you’re asking is more important to her than any pomp that goes with it.”

“I know.” Callum shifts awkwardly under her gaze. “I just… I dunno. I _think_ she’ll say yes? But… she deserves the best of everything, and I just want this to be really _special_ , y’know?”

“Don’t I know it?” Tiadrin laughs and ushers him down the hall after Rayla. “Your secret’s safe with me for now, Your Highness. Might be an idea to warn the others though, so they don’t make the mistake I almost did.”

Callum offers her a grateful smile. “That’s probably for the best.”

x

“I’ve never been to a human ball,” says Lain, setting four mugs against the table. 

“Neither have us have really been to a _ball_ ,” points out Tiadrin, thanking him with a smile. “And in the Human Kingdoms, no less.” She glances at her husband over her tea and something like hesitation sparks between them. 

Callum knows the look, but it’s been years since he’s since he’s last seen it. It’s the look people used to give him and Rayla whenever they suggested some joint sort of celebration or treaty, full of doubt and uncertainty around the general idea of a joint _anything_ between elves and humans. “It’s a five year old tradition now,” he tells them. “I don’t think Ez even had to present it to his council this year, they just sort of expected him to host it in honour of the end of the war.”

“It’s fine,” says Lain. He sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his face, tired of the constant culture shock. “It’s barely been a year to us,” he reminds them. “We’re still… adjusting.”

“You’re doing really well, though,” offers Rayla. “You’ve definitely had a better time adjusting than, y’know, _Runaan_ , and you were in those coins _longer_ than him.” She snorts good-naturedly into her tea. “It’ll be fun,” she promises. “A ball in Katolis is always a good time. Besides, this one is special.”

“I imagine so,” says Lain, glancing furtively at Callum. “Are there many elves that go?”

Rayla nods at him. “More and more every year.” She pauses, her mug cupped between her hands. “I think I get it?” she starts. “I can’t imagine how strange it must be for you and Mum, but I don’t want you to feel _obligated_ to go just because I asked. We just thought…”

“Come now,” chuckles Lain. He waves her off and looks meaningfully between her and Callum, his smile kind and far more understanding than anyone’s ought to be after the mess he’s been through. “It’s just… _strange_ … to have an open invitation to a ball across the border. To be _welcomed_ in a Human Kingdom. It’s not bad. It’s just strange.”

“With any luck, it’ll feel less strange over time,” says Callum. “You don’t _have_ to come but… I really think you should be there. All of you.” His eyes flit from Lain to his pack to back again, hoping he understands; hoping that he knows that his daughter’s _potential_ engagement to a human prince might be the first step in that; hoping he knows how much his support would mean - to Callum as much as to Rayla.

Lain grins at them both, and he catches his wife’s eye and her fingers as they reach towards him. “We’ll be there,” he tells them. “How could we not be? It feels like it’s time, doesn’t it, love?”

Tiadrin smiles. “Yes,” she says, eyeing Callum over her tea. “It does.”

x

Runaan is harder to convince. Callum has a feeling he’s been sullen about it since he gave his permission to begin with, but Ethari takes it in stride and talks him down. It’s different for him, Callum thinks. There’s guilt there that Tiadrin and Lain don’t understand. It was _he_ who had made the choice to kill Harrow, even after he’d seen the egg. It was _he_ who had watched the rest of his team die at the hands of Crownguard soldiers who now serve and protect Ez, his _other_ target from that night five years ago. 

How can he go back?

“You’ve met Ezran,” says Ethari patiently. “He’s been _here_ for a couple of Solstices. You _know_ he holds no ill will against you.”

“That’s not the _point_ ,” grumbles Runaan. “You wouldn’t _understand_ -”

“Ez does,” says Rayla pointedly. “He doesn’t blame you. He never did. You’re not _obligated_ to go, Runaan, but he’s given you this chance. You owe it to him to do the same.”

“So, in short, I’m obligated, then?” Runaan bristles and crosses his arms against his chest, his prosthetic glinting in the pale light. 

Rayla groans at him. “You’re being difficult,” she snaps. “The whole _point_ of this ball is to promote unity and friendship between elves and humans. There won’t be a person there who _didn’t_ do something questionable during the war - it was a _war_ \- but it’s the one night of the year where everyone puts all of that behind them. I think it’s time that you do it too.”

Runaan scowls at her, and at Ethari too, not quite able to make sense of their determined optimism. Callum had kind of expected it, to be honest. It’s not that Runaan _dislikes_ him and his brother as much as it is his inability to admit to his judgement and his guilt. What _does_ catch him off guard is when Runaan turns to _him_.

“Why aren’t _you_ saying anything?”

Callum stares at him. “...Should I be…?”

“Surely you object,” he says coldly. “You and your brother can’t want _my_ presence at this ball of yours.”

“It was _his_ idea,” says Rayla, cutting across him. “It’s the first one we can all attend _together._ As a _family_.”

Runaan gives Callum a _look_ , his eyes narrowed and suspicious. There’s so much meaning in Rayla’s words that she doesn’t even know yet, but between _them_ \- her potential betrothed and her stubborn, _almost_ overprotective uncle - the statement is loaded. “ _Family_ ,” he sneers, to Callum rather than to everyone else. 

“That’s right,” says Callum, standing his ground. He glances at Rayla briefly, while he knows Runaan’s looking and she’s not. “If you don’t want to go for yourself, okay. But _Rayla_ deserves to have her _whole_ family with her for _this one_. Just this once.” He gives Runaan a hard stare, his head jerking ever so slightly at the pack he’d left in the corner of their living room, the cuffs within it a taunt to everyone who knows they’re there.

Runaan scoffs. He almost looks impressed by the gall. “There’s history there,” he mutters. “History I’ve not been forgiven for.”

Callum shakes his head. “My _dad_ ,” he says, watchful of the way Runaan flinches away at the word, “worked real hard to make sure Ez and I grew up knowing that history is a narrative of _love_ .” He’s not subtle when he looks at Rayla this time. “All that stuff that went down five years ago… we can put it behind us for this _one_ ball. Right?”

Runaan pauses. He looks between Callum, and Ethari, and Rayla, and then, finally, Callum again, his resolve visibly crumbling as Callum stares him down. “Right,” he mumbles at last. “A narrative of love isn’t so hard to follow. I can get behind that, at the very least.”

  
  
  


Part 3

  
  


“What are we to wear?” asks Tiadrin out loud as they pass under the gates of Katolis.

It’s a bustling city now. To be fair, it always has been, but there are elves who live here comfortably these days, and the markets by the outer gates are a sight to behold. It’s heartwarming to see the diversity; elves and humans alike, intermingling without trouble. It catches Callum by surprise sometimes - he and Rayla are ambassadors for the cities that still have trouble with this, but seeing it work in person puts a sense of satisfaction solidly in his gut.

There’s a little bit of a buzz in the air today. Every year, around the same time as the ball, the Common Folk have a festival for themselves, and their excitement is tangible as Callum and the others pass through the crowded streets.

“You’ll need a dress,” Rayla says to her mother. “I’m sure Callum can have something arranged for Dad and Runaan and Ethari, but it takes even the castle tailors some time to get something done on such short notice. We can probably just drop into one of the shops closer to the city centre. I’m sure we can find you something there.”

“You as well,” says Ethari mildly, catching Callum’s eye. 

Rayla raises an eyebrow at him. “I have a dress.”

“That ratty old thing Callum carries around in his pack?” Ethari snorts at her. “I think it’s time for something new. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Callum pauses. Her usual formal gown has to be at least three years old by now. The fabric is worn and not so vibrant anymore, and he’d used it to wrap the cuff box in his effort to keep it safe and hidden. Plus… tonight is _special_. It’s more than time for something new. He nods. “I think so. I think you should treat yourself. You never let yourself get anything nice.”

Rayla rolls her eyes at them both. “I don’t _need_ anything nice,” she whines. “What’s wrong with the one I have?”

“Nothing,” says Callum quickly. “It’s just old.” He glances at Tiadrin for help, and she’s only too happy to oblige.

“Come now, darling, we’ve never been dress hunting before, you and I,” she says, nudging her mount closer to her daughter’s so she can stick a cheeky elbow in her ribs. “If you insist on getting your dear old mum a dress, then I have to insist we find you a new one too. It’ll give us some time to get all prettied up before the ball, don’t you think?”

Rayla tilts her head at her, dubious and concerned. “Why? Is there something special happening tonight?”

The collective panic that rings through their little convoy almost gives Callum a heart attack. For a split second, he forgets how to breathe, his cover well and truly blown. Runaan looks away, his jaw clenched tightly shut. Ethari waves her off with a little _too_ much gusto. Lain raises his hands, his smile sheepish, helpless, and obviously guilty. Tiadrin’s the only one who manages to keep her cool.

“There’s a _ball_ tonight, Rayla,” she says excitedly. “My first. I call that a special enough occasion to have a little bit of a girls’ day out. “Now take me to these dress shops you’ve been talking about. I’ve never had an excuse to wear something fancy.”

Rayla studies them, her suspicion not quite gone away, but Tiadrin nudges her again and grins. 

“All right, fine,” sighs Rayla, offering her mother an exasperated smile. 

“We’ll meet up with you at the castle then,” says Tiadrin, shooing Callum and Rayla’s dads along. “Don’t you boys start without us! We won’t be long.” She ushers Rayla forward, shooting them a stern glare - _Way to keep your cover_ \- over her shoulder on her way past. They disappear into the throng of carts and people, and Callum lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in his relief.

“You know,” says Lain mildly, “I don’t think she’d really mind if you just asked her.”

“Probably not,” mutters Callum, easing his mount forward. “But I still want it to be special, okay? She’s worth all of that.”

x

There’s an elven merchant in the South quadrant of the city that Rayla likes - he’s a Sunfire elf, but he’s got the best Moonberry cider on this side of the border, and his little half-elf daughter is a tried and true _gem._ His shop is called _The Wishbone_ , and she likes the aesthetic of his wares. It’s where she got her other dress - the one Callum thinks is too old - and if she’s going to find a new one in time, then his is a good place to start.

“What do you like?” she asks Mum. They leave their mounts by the entrance and Rayla opens the door for them both, grinning at the six year old who comes rushing out to meet them.

“Lady Rayla!”

Rayla grins. “Hi Lessa,” she greets. “Mum, this is Lessa. Her dad runs this place. Lessa, this is my mum.”

“Well hello, little one.” Mum chuckles and crouches to meet her at eye level, her smile soft as Lessa’s golden eyes go wide. “You can just call me Tiadrin, if you like. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Where’s your dad, lovely?” Rayla asks her. 

Lessa shrugs. “In the back, I think. He’ll come out in a minute. Can I help you find anything?”

Tiadrin laughs, impressed. “You’re a bit young to be such a good host already, little miss,” she says. “We’re looking for some pretty dresses for the ball tonight. You wanna help us?”

Lessa’s eyes grow wider, if that’s even possible, and she nods eagerly and takes Mum by the hand. “This way,” she says, all too happy to help. Rayla follows, pleasantly entertained by her enthusiasm, and not five minutes later, they’re perusing the collection of formalwear at the back of the store. Mum seems particularly drawn to the simpler gowns in traditional Moonshadow colours, but she’s studying a silver one when the shop owner - Lessa’s dad, Ailas - comes around the corner.

“My Lady,” he greets with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise. And this must be…?”

“My mum,” says Rayla. “Tiadrin. Mum, this is Ailas.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” says Mum. “Your daughter’s been the perfect shopkeeper, haven’t you, darling?”

“I helped,” says Lessa proudly. “They’re looking for dresses. Tiadrin says they need to find something special for Lady Rayla.”

Ailas tilts his head at Mum, curious, oddly knowing, and he opens his mouth to ask a question, Rayla thinks, only for Mum to interrupt him, her tone sharp.

“It’s just time for something new,” she says. She holds the silver one against Rayla shoulders and nods. “Try that one on,” she orders.

“We’re here for _you_ , aren’t we?”

“And you as well, we discussed this.” She waves Rayla off. “Off you trot. I think if we’re going to find you a dress, we should find one that’ll knock your prince’s socks off.”

Rayla purses her lips at her. Folds the silver dress over her arm and frowns at Mum, and then at Ailas, and back again. “What’s going on, Mum?”

“We’re finding dresses for a ball,” says Mum. Something about it sounds stubborn. Secretive, almost. Like there’s something she knows that Rayla doesn’t. She beckons Lessa forward before Rayla even gets the chance to ask. “Wanna help Rayla try on her new dress?”

“Yes, yes!” says Lessa excitedly. She bounds forward, taking Rayla’s hand in both of her own and tugs her to the back of the shop without waiting for her assent. “You’re gonna look so pretty for the ball tonight! Like a princess!”

“Like a princess indeed,” Ailas mutters, looking curiously at Mum.

Mum only smirks back, and that’s the last Rayla hears of it before Lessa shuts the changing room door.

x

“The rumours are true, then?” 

Ailas’ voice is muffled, but Rayla presses her ear to the door anyway, her curiosity too much for her to bear. 

“Depends on the rumours,” says Mum vaguely. 

There’s a pause. Rayla grimaces, shrugging the strap of the gown over her shoulder as she inches the door open. She can’t see - Mum’d gone ahead and put two more dresses over the crack - “In case you don’t like that one,” she’d said - but she strains her ears anyway and listens with her breath in her throat.

“Is he nervous?” asks Ailas.

“More than he lets on,” says Mum. “Personally, I don’t think he has anything to worry about. He’s just being a perfectionist. He won’t settle for anything less.”

“How exciting,” she hears Ailas say. They say nothing else about it after that.

x

“You _haven’t asked her yet?_ ” Ezran voice cracks at the _yet_ as it leaves his mouth. There are tailors attending to Lain and Runaan (Ethari has his own suit from last year), but Callum’s first priority - after getting them settled - was Ezran, and he’d made a bee line for the throne room as soon as he could. 

“Yeah, _shush_.” Callum shifts uneasily. It’s not like Rayla and Tiadrin are due back right at this very moment, but he’s been on edge about it all day, and it feels like she might walk in at any time. “I wanted to ask her tonight. At the ball.”

“ _Ah._ ” Ezran beams at him and bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “I’m glad you told me though. That could have been bad. Are you nervous?”

“Um.” Callum sucks in a breath. “A little. I just - I want it to be special, I guess. And, y’know, today’s important to us. Today five years ago was the first time I told her I loved her.”

Ez’s smile grows wider still. “You guys are going to kill me, I _swear_ ,” he laughs. “But… I feel like I should warn you. There have been… rumours.”

“Rumours?”

“It’s probably closer to speculation,” Ez tells him. “There are a _lot_ of people who think you’re going to ask her tonight.”

Callum scowls, his shoulders tensing defensively. “Like _who?_ ”

Ez purses his lips. “It’s not a bad thing,” he says hastily. “You guys have been together forever, and everyone always knew it was only going to be a matter of time. A lot of other families have been asking because - well - you’re of marrying age now, and they’re looking to form alliances. Obviously, I would have said no on your behalf to _all_ of them,” he adds, “but the sooner you do it, the sooner they’ll back off. But I mean, beyond them, Soren was wondering, and Aanya was asking, and Aunt Amaya and Queen Janai, and -” He hesitates. “Claudia, as well.”

The nerves, the excitement, the joy in being home - all of it - leave Callum in a rush. His breath stalls. His jaw clenches. “Claudia’s here?” he asks stiffly.

“She has been for a while,” Ez admits. “She’s… come a long way, Callum. She’s not who she used to be. Not since...”

Not since the death of her father, Callum finishes in his mind, be he’d known that. And he believes that. She was misguided and naive, and from a certain standpoint, he understands what it’s like to feel like to want to feel loved by and important to her father, but there’s a lot there that he hasn’t really been able to forgive either. She’d tried to hurt Rayla. On multiple accounts. Would have used her for power, if she had to, and he has no doubts about that.

“Is she coming tonight?” he asks sourly.

Ez nods. “It’ll be her first one,” he says. “You gave Runaan a chance -”

“Because he’s Rayla’s _family_ ,” snarls Callum.

“And Claudia is Soren’s,” says Ez. It’s not often that he pulls rank on Callum, but the stare that he gives him is regal and not one to be argued with. “She’s changed. You need to give her this chance. Okay?”

Callum says nothing for a while. He glares at his feet, lips pressed tightly together, but in the end he nods. “Fine,” he grumbles. 

“Don’t let it bother you, okay?” Ez nudges his elbow, his smile understanding but stern. “Tonight’s supposed to be special. She wants you to be happy. Rayla too. It’ll go perfectly, even with her there. Promise.”

Callum certainly hopes so, but he says nothing more.

  
  
  


Part 4

  
  


The ball opens with an address, usually - Ezran thanks everyone for coming and makes some speech about hard-fought peace between Xadia and the Five Kingdoms. In normal circumstances, Aunt Amaya and Commander Gren stand to his left, on guard as always, and Callum and Rayla stand at his right, his primary advisors even before Opeli and Corvus. 

That’s not the case tonight.

Callum hasn’t seen Rayla since she and her mother went hunting for ball gowns, and he stands alone next to Ezran in his crisp, freshly tailored suit with the cuffs in his pocket, feeling strangely vulnerable without Rayla at his side. He cranes his neck over the crowd, searching for her in the throng of elves and humans gathered in the castle ballroom, trying not to look too obvious as he does it. He can hear the whispers over Ez’s address. It’s unheard of to see him without her, and if there really has been _speculation_ around his proposal, it’ll be rampant now. 

He spots Queen Janai first, standing at the head table, gold on her wrists and woven into her dress, immaculate as ever. Soren’s on guard at the far end of the ballroom, one hand resting idly on the pommel of his sword, the slightest of frowns crinkling his brow. Claudia’s there too, lingering uneasily by her brother, her head downcast, obviously unsure that she should be here in the first place. Lain, Runaan, and Ethari are on the west side of the room, drinks in their hands, but Rayla and Tiadrin aren’t there either. 

Then Ezran’s address comes to a close, and the crowd is applauding politely, and Callum _still_ can’t spot her, and his panic gets the better of him. 

“She’s not here,” he frets. “She found out and she’s not ready and she’s not here.”

 _Oh, the rumours are true?_ Signs Aunt Amaya. Her armour gleams in the candlelight and her eyes are bright and excited. _We wondered._

“You and everyone else,” grumbles Callum, wringing his hands. 

She laughs, silent, as always, but exasperated all the same. _You’re catastrophizing. Perhaps she’s running late._

“She wouldn’t be late for _this_ ,” he whines. “What if she’s _left?_ ”

 _With her mother, but without her father and uncles?_ Aunt Amaya scoffs at him as she leads him off the dais. _It might be unlike her to be late, Callum, but it’s even less like her to leave without saying anything. Surely you trust her more than that._

Callum scowls at her. “Of course I trust her,” he snaps. “I’m just -”

 _Catastrophizing._ Aunt Amaya shakes her head at him, her hand at his elbow as she steers him towards Queen Janai. 

The queen in question raises an eyebrow at him - at his distress and mysteriously empty sides. “Where is your beloved?” she asks.

 _Late_ , signs Aunt Amaya for him, before he can put himself into another spiral of self doubt and insecurity. _I imagine she’ll be here later._

“Hm.” Queen Janai smirks at him. “Is it true you want to ask her to marry you tonight?”

Callum scowls a second time. The impropriety doesn’t even occur to him. He’s far too stressed to think about manners right now, especially to Queen Janai who’s been with his Aunt Amaya long enough now that she probably doesn’t care anyway. “Why do you _all_ know? Is there some sort of bet or something?”

“Well, between us, yes,” says Janai, her smirk pulling upwards a fraction more. “Amaya believes you won’t do it.”

“ _Excuse me?”_

 _I think you won’t need to,_ clarifies Aunt Amaya. _I think she already knows._

“She doesn’t know,” says Callum quickly. His tone borders on defensive. “How can she know?”

 _You’re not very subtle, nephew._ Aunt Amaya smirks at him. _In any case, if you believe she she doesn’t know, how can she have left you before you’ve even asked._

Callum opens his mouth, but her point is hard to dispute. For the first time, the ridculousness of this spiral hits him, and he snaps his mouth shut again and stares, instead, at the floor, still nervous but in considerably less panic. 

Aunt Amaya snorts and rolls her eyes. _She’ll be here,_ she signs, patting his shoulder sympathetically. _It’s going to be fine._

Callum sucks in a breath. He glances around the ballroom once more. 

There’s still no sign of Rayla.

x

Ibis doesn’t attend many human celebrations, but he makes an effort for this ball every year anyway. Callum hasn’t seen him in a while - Ibis had taken him under his literal and figurative wing years ago, but it’s been ages since he’s actually _needed_ the tutelage. He’d done well, Ibis’d told him. It takes decades to master an arcanum, but Callum’s work ethic and eidetic memory had made him _much_ more than the average student, and, in Ibis’ words, he couldn’t be prouder.

He’s talking to Queen Aanya tonight. They’re friends, Callum thinks. Queen Aanya is diplomatic enough to get along with anyone, but she and Ibis seem to like each other beyond their politics. It’s probably something to do with the way she rode in to rescue them all at the last minute five years ago. The bards don’t ever _not_ sing about that.

They offer him polite smiles as he nears. In truth, he’s still looking for Rayla, but it’s rude not to say hello to his old mentor and the Queen of Duren on his way past.

“Ibis,” he greets, if a little stiffly. He bows to Queen Aanya. “Your Majesty. How are you both?”

“Such formality,” comments Ibis. “Not that you weren’t a polite student, but if you wish to give away your nerves, you’ve done it.”

Callum flushes at that. The cuffs clink together in his pocket. “I get it,” he says drily. “Everyone knows. But if you all keep talking about it like this, she’s going to know before I even get the chance to ask her.”

“She probably already does,” says Ibis with a smirk. “She doesn’t miss a beat, your beloved. Where is she, anyway?”

Callum shuffles uneasily. “Late, I think.”

“That’s unlike her,” says Queen Aanya, swilling her drink around in her goblet. “We were just talking about it. It’s rare to see you without her. Although, I wouldn’t look so worried, if you don’t me saying, Your Highness. From the way Ez tells it, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Oh?” Callum raises an eyebrow at her. “How does _Ez_ tell it, exactly?”

Something pink crosses Aanya’s cheeks, caught out by her slip in formality. She’s the very definition of propriety most days - she calls Rayla _my Lady_ when the title is made up to begin with, and when her own very clearly outranks hers. But her friendship with Ez is genuine, and he is, apparently, the only one she’s comfortable enough to refer to by name. “Fondly,” she says, recovering quickly. “Even if - in his words - you’re both _‘disgusting’_.”

“Such is love,” says Ibis. “At least you didn’t have to put up with them every day for three years, Your Majesty.” 

Queen Aanya snorts a little at that, but she waves him off. “Enough teasing,” she says briskly. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Your Highness. She’ll be here. Patience is key in all things.”

x

What Queen Aanya says might be true, but Callum’s still wringing his hands by the time Soren finds him lingering on the balcony. The new Crownguard armour suits him - like Ez’s circlet, it’d been forged by Sunfire elves in Lux Aurea as a gesture of goodwill from Queen Janai. He’s tossing grapes into the air and catching them in his mouth when he leans back against the balcony railing, and Callum’s too busy fretting to realize he’s not alone until it’s almost too late. 

The nerves leave him a rush. All that’s left when he sees Claudia is unease bubbling away in his gut.

“Stop freaking out,” says Soren, ignorant of the tension in the air. “I hear her mom just went out of the way to make sure she looks the part of your future wife for when you ask. It’s going to be fine.”

Callum says nothing. He only studies Claudia over Soren’s shoulder, wary of her and the white imperfectly hidden by black dye in her hair. “I didn’t realize you were back,” hes says stiffly.

“Um.” Claudia stares down at her feet, almost… afraid to look him in the eye. “Yeah. It’s - it’s been really hard, but -”

“Things are different now,” says Soren sharply. He eases himself between them, cautious and protective of his sister, even from Callum. “You of all people should know how much people can change.”

Callum purses his lips. She’s so timid now, her shoulders hunched, her head hung low, her eyes downcast, and Callum lets out the breath that had lodged itself in his throat and softens his gaze. “How are you?”

For the first time, Claudia looks up. She blinks at him, unsurely, but Soren shifts a little out of the way and she smiles. “Better than I was,” she murmurs. “Listen - I just - I wanted to say congratulations. Everyone’s been talking about it - discreetly, of course - and, well, I know you haven’t _asked_ yet, but… I want you to know that I wish you both all the best.”

Callum stares at her, his wariness dissipating with every passing second. “I - um -” He coughs. “Thanks,” he says stupidly. “It’s - um - it’s been a long time coming, I think.”

Claudia offers him a shy smile. “I think so too,” she says. “You’re good for each other. I remember when - when we were kids and you had that crush on _me_ , you tried _so_ hard to be what you thought I wanted but Rayla - Her Ladyship, I mean -”

“Just call her Rayla,” chuckles Callum, despite himself.

Claudia chuckles too. “Rayla, then. She’s - she’s always seen you for what you are, Callum. A talented mage, and an amazing friend, and someone _kind_ and _good_ beyond all that. She brings out the best in you and -” She takes a breath. “You’re perfect for each other, and I think you’ll make each other really happy.”

“That - uh -” Callum smiles at her, his guard let down at last. “That means a lot, coming from you,” he admits. He glances around them quickly, this time to check that Rayla _hasn’t_ turned up in the minute since he last looked, and, against his better judgement, pulls the cuffs from his pocket to show Soren and Claudia. “In Moonshadow culture, they wear cuffs,” he tells them quietly. “Ethari made these ages ago. Do you think she’ll like them?”

Their eyes go wide at the sight of them. Claudia’s lips make an _oh_ of fascination as she studies the silver, the pale gold, the intricate, swirling patterns - a combination of Sky and Moon runes, Callum realizes for the first time - Ethari’d carved into it for her.

“They’re beautiful,” says Claudia earnestly. “She’ll love them.”

“Speaking of.” Soren nudges him and jerks his head at the entrance hall.

Callum’s breath catches in his throat. He fumbles with the cuffs; shoves them back into his pocket with clumsy, shaking fingers, and swallows as the crowd in the back of the ballroom parts.

She’s there. Hair pinned into a low bun at the base of her neck, cowl neck gown of Moonshadow green and silver twinkling in the candle light, irritated frown tugging at the pale pink of her lips as she peers over the throng looking for him.

Soren smirks and shoves him forward. “Good luck, step-prince,” he says. “Although I’m not sure you’re gonna need it.”

  
  


Part 5

  
  


_One hour earlier_

“We’re going to be _late,_ ” snarls Rayla. _The Wishbone_ doesn’t even have a particularly large dress selection, and _somehow,_ it feels like Mum’s forced her to try on at least fifty different gowns since they walked in. Lessa’s only too happy to oblige her, which hasn’t helped in the least, and Ailas might as well be an accomplice at this point, because _he’s_ the one suggesting others for her to try. “The ball starts in _half an hour_ , Mum, and we’ve been here since we got into the city!”

“What’s a few minutes late to a war hero?” Mum waves her off with a snort and presses probably the fifty-first gown into her arms. This one’s relatively simple at least - just a green and silver sheath in traditional Moonshadow colours with a cowl neck collar and a low back. 

Rayla wrinkles her nose at and tries to hand it back. “This one’s _fine_ ,” she snaps, gesturing vaguely at herself. (It’s not fine. Not really. Deep blues make her look paler than she is, but they’re running _late_ and they can’t afford to spend anymore time on this).

“Last one, darling,” insists Mum. “I think this might be the one anyway. What do you think, Ailas?”

“I would agree but we won’t know until it’s on you.” Ailas offers her a smile, but there’s something impish about it. Like he’s more than happy to be late to Common Folk festival if it means holding them up. 

“ _Mum.”_

“ _Last one._ ” Mum shoves her back into the changing room and shuts the door after her. “If you put it on and you like it, I can do your hair for you and we can be on our way. How about it?”

“ _Hair too?_ ” Rayla scowls at her mother through the closed door. “Mum, come _on._ ”

“I’ll be quick about it,” promises Mum. “I just think you deserve to be the prettiest at the ball tonight. You’ll remember this one for years to come, I’m sure of it.”

Rayla snarls and pounds a fist against the wood. “ _Mum._ I’m not _stupid_. What in the name of the bloody moon is happening tonight?”

There’s a pause. Lessa giggles quietly on the other side of the door, and then there’s whispering but it’s not quite loud enough for Rayla to make out clearly.

“You’ll just have to trust me on that one, dear,” says Mum at last. “Get dressed. The sooner you do, the sooner we’ll get to the castle. Don’t want to be any later than we are, do we?”

x

Mum keeps her word - it _is_ the last dress, and it is, undoubtedly, the one that looks nicest on her. It fits like a glove and even Rayla can’t deny that it was worth trying on, and when everything finally feels like it’s all said and done, Mum sits her down at a vanity in the back of the shop with pins between her lips, to do her hair.

“This _really_ isn’t necessary,” grumbles Rayla.

“It is tonight,” promises Mum, only too happy to pamper her daughter _properly_ for what probably _is_ the first time in their lives. Rayla will admit that it’s _nice_ to be able to spend this time with her, but Ez will be making his address in fifteen minutes and there are expectations for her to be present and on the dais for it. She’s always been present and on the dais, and missing it, even for this, is not such a good look. “They’ll forgive you for being late, Rayla. Can anyone really complain if we’re late?”

“ _Yes,”_ snaps Rayla. “Humans might not be as bad as I thought they were, but they’re _petty_ and any excuse to complain is a good one.”

“Do those complaints mean anything to anyone who matters, though?”

Rayla bristles. No, because the only ones whose opinions matter to her are her friends, who won’t care, and any others will fall on deaf ears because Ez is the King, and Callum is his heir presumptive, so who can they complain to _really?_ Still, Rayla scowls as Mum runs her fingers through her hair and starts pinning it behind her ears. “Just tell me what’s happening tonight,” she says. “I swear I’ll be less annoying about it if you just _tell me._ ”

“And ruin the surprise?” Mum scoffs. “I think not. Just be patient, darling, I promise it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“We still have to ride to the _castle_ , Mum, we’ll miss the address!”

“His Majesty won’t mind.” Mum grins at her through the mirror. “Trust me. Everything’s going to be fine. Better than fine, even. Promise.”

“I’m not sure that I do anymore,” grumbles Rayla. She crosses her arms in front of her chest irritably, but Mum hums to herself as she tugs her hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She’s so pleased to be doing it that Rayla can’t bring herself to complain anymore, and in the end, she sighs and resigns herself to it. “This better be worth it,” she mutters at last.

“It will be,” says Mum. “Just trust me.”

x

The ride to the castle is brisk. The Common Folk on their way to the festival part for them in the streets - some even bow to Rayla on their way past. The stray locks of hair Mum had left out on purpose whip past around her face as she urges her mount faster, and she practically leaps off it as they cross under the portcullis.

“My Lady,” greets a guard with a bow. Rayla tries not to scowl at him. They should all know better by now. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

Rayla shoots a glare at Mum. “Yeah,” she mutters. “Sorry. Could you please -”

“Of course, My Lady.” He bows once more and takes the reigns of their mounts in his hand so he might lead them to the stables in their stead, and Rayla huffs and hitches up her skirts. “Come on,” she says to Mum, jerking her head towards the main entrance. “Callum’s probably worried sick.”

“Probably,” chuckles Mum, although she seems altogether unapologetic about it. “You’ll take me on a tour later, won’t you?”

“ _Later_ .” Rayla gives her mother a _look_. “Ball first. We’re late enough.”

Mum laughs. “I’ll hold you to it.”

x

When she spots Callum over by the balcony, he looks pale. Happy to see her, of course, relieved, even, that she’s finally arrived, but there’s a something like anxiety in the way his lips pull upwards as he pushes through the crowd to get to her. Mum disappears from her side almost immediately, probably to find Dad, Runaan, and Ethari, but she hardly notices it - she’s just glad to be here at last.

“Hey,” he says. His voice squeaks a little, and he coughs, grins sheepishly at his shoes, and tries again. “ _Hey._ You look - _wow_ -”

Rayla ducks her head to hide her blush. It’s been five years and still, he finds ways to make her feel like an awkward teenager, in love for the first time. “Mum insisted,” she says, taking his proffered arm and stepping away from the entranceway at last. “It’s - that’s why we were late. She must have made me try on _every_ dress Ailas had in his shop, and I _swear_ -”

“It was worth it,” says Callum quickly. “You look beautiful. I mean. You look beautiful every day, but -” He coughs. Smiles. Squeezes her hand and tugs her closer to him. “I just love you.”

“Well,” chuckles Rayla. “I mean, I love you too, but -” She pauses.

He’s standing funny. There’s a weird tension in his shoulders that makes him look like he’s nervous about something, and he’s fidgeting a little more than usual, like a teenager wanting to ask her on a date for the first time, or a -

_“Is he nervous?”_

_“More than he lets on. Personally, I don’t think he has anything to worry about. He’s just being a perfectionist. He won’t settle for anything less.”_

_“I just think you deserve to be the prettiest at the ball tonight. You’ll remember this one for years to come, I’m sure of it.”_

No.

_No._

He _couldn’t_ be. Suddenly Mum’s secrecy and insistence makes a lot more sense, but there’s a part of her that’s not quite daring enough to believe it. Surely she’s just being presumptuous, because he’s a _Prince_ , and she’s just - the council can’t have _let_ him -

“You okay?”

“Hm?” Rayla blinks. For the first time since they met, his face is unreadable, and she finds herself doubting her assumptions. She’s reading too much into it. She _must_ be. “Yeah,” she croaks. “I’m fine. I’m just - glad I didn’t miss it.”

Callum lets out a laugh. One she’ll happily listen to forever, if that’s what this is really all about, but she forces the thought away as he leans in for a kiss. “Same,” he says. “I got worried for a minute there. I thought you finally got sick of me and left.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to do that?” chuckles Rayla. “Do you want to - um - do you wanna dance?”

“With you?” says Callum. “Always.”

x

He’s never been good at dancing, but Rayla likes it, and she likes it even more when he dances with her, two left feet and all. She’s never admitted to it, but he knows now that that first day they went to the Silvergrove, there was no actual _need_ for him to dance _with_ her - she’d just been excited to share her traditions with him, and to dance with him for the first time. 

So he does it now, and they’re swaying on the spot more than they’re actually _dancing_ but it’s enough. The cuffs clink together in his pocket with their every move, but at some point, he stops worrying about them.

She’s here, and she’s so beautiful, and she’s just happy to be _dancing_ with him, that maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t have bothered with all this, and maybe they should have just found somewhere private; somewhere _quiet_ to just _be_ together, and to dance where no one else might see.

That’s the annoying part about all this, he’s noticed. He’s had people hounding him all night, and for weeks before, asking how he’ll do it, and if he thinks she’ll say yes, when it’s so much less complicated than all of that.

He just wants to be with her.

The thought alone settles his nerves and slows the beating of his heart, and the words are there now, sitting in his throat, waiting to be asked when it’s quiet and once they’re away from all the prying eyes that are so adamant on watching them tonight.

“I think Mum had fun,” she murmurs, as he lifts his arm to twirl her beneath it. “We’ve never been out on a girls’ day like that.”

“Yeah?” Callum swallows his laugh. “Maybe you should go out on days like that with her more often.”

“Maybe,” says Rayla. “But… it kinda feels like she was priming me for something.”

The nerves slam back into him like a horse at full gallop, and Callum brings their lazy little waltz to a stop. “Oh?”

“I dunno.” Rayla’s breath hitches in her throat, and she stares down at the marble beneath their feet like she’s suddenly _very_ self-conscious. “I just - I’m not sure what I expected to happen tonight - or hoped, even -”

“Stop.” Callum swallows. The cuffs clink in his pocket once more and it’d be so _easy_ let her finish the train of thought now but… she doesn’t want this done in public, he thinks. She’s never been one for grand declarations of love. She likes the little things. Setting his tea out after a long day of study. The way her fingers fit so neatly between his. The intimacy of being sleeping in such close quarters. “I - look, Rayla, I wanted to ask you something tonight but - I think I might have gone about this all wrong? Can we - um -” He takes a breath. “Let’s just enjoy the ball, okay? I’ll tell you all about it later, and I promise it’s nothing bad. I just… I think you’d prefer it if I ask you in private, is all.”

Rayla’s breath stills, the pink line of her lips parted like he might as well have just asked. “Is - is it what I think you want to ask?”

“Probably,” chuckles Callum, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Aunt Amaya and Queen Janai had a bet and everything. I just… wanna be with you right now, if that’s okay.”

She smiles. Kisses him quickly on the lips and lays her head against his shoulder. “That sounds perfect to me.”

x

They’re followed by stares all night, wondering if he’s done it, wondering what she’s said, but when it comes down to it, nothing really needs to be said in the first place. They dance the night away, sharing those secret smiles with each other and laughing with their friends, and at the end of it all, as the guests dwindle away, they find themselves on the balcony with half empty goblets of wine in their hands.

There’s moonlight in Rayla’s hair and her eyes are brighter, somehow, in the dim light, and gods, if she isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world, then Callum doesn’t know what is. 

When they’re sure it’s just them, and there’s no one watching anymore, Callum takes the cuffs from his pocket and puts them in her hands.

“Ethari made them ages ago,” he says. There’s no tremble in his voice or in his hands. No anxiety in his chest. No hesitation in the way that he gives them to her. It should have been like this from the beginning, and he can’t help but think himself an idiot for trying to go so far with it. 

He loves her. He’s never worried about that before. Why had he worried so much about this?

“What do you think?”

Rayla laughs - just a soft, breathy one that’s not wholly believing of the gesture - of the _question_ hanging unspoken in the air. “Were you really that nervous?” 

“A little,” admits Callum, sipping at his wine. “I don’t really know why. I… wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is,” she breathes. “They’re beautiful. I… started to wonder, actually, if this is really what all of this was about. Mum was so _insistent_ about making sure this would be memorable.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” She grins at him, her eyes shining bright in the moonlight, her smile happier than he’s ever seen it. “Kinda wish you hadn’t tried so hard, but… we got there, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” chuckles Callum. “I dunno. I even asked your parents for permission and everything. All of them.”

“Did they say yes?”

“I had doubts about Runaan.” He shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it. “But he said yes too, in the end. Ethari was right though. Yours is the only one that matters. What do you say? Will you marry me?”

She laughs once more, the sound of it catching in the night air. “Yes,” she giggles. “ _Obviously_ yes. You can’t have doubted that.”

In spite of the mess of it all, in spite of the nerves and the build up and the secrecy… no. He supposes he didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This was a fucking nightmare to write, what a bloody marathon jesus christ, i am dead now
> 
> 2) This fic features cameos from Ailas and Lessa as per special request from @bouncyfutures! You may recognize them from the delicate series, which this is not a part of, mind you - @bouncyfutures just liked them enough to ask for them to be included.
> 
> 3) We're calling this Part 2 of 2 but technically speaking there's one more that actually follows this up immediately. Give me a few days! I'll have Part 3 of 2 up for you guys all in good time!


End file.
